Half Court
by purplecloak9
Summary: When veteran basketball star Edward Cullen ends his season with a crushing loss, the media brands him too old to play in the NBA. With the help of his coach's hyper competitive daughter, Cullen sets out to prove them all wrong.
1. Prologue

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Cullen watched the reporters scrambling to ask their questions. He dreaded the inevitable inquiry: how the team's veteran allowed a five game blowout in the NBA Finals? The cold shower he'd taken alone in the locker room did nothing to relieve the ache in his knees, or his stinging pride.

Twelve points, he thought miserably. Again and again his lanky small forward Jasper Whitlock found him in the paint, and half a dozen times he missed. More than a handful of turnovers. With two minutes to go in the game the San Antonio Spurs succumbed to a 15 point deficit from which they never returned.

"Edward, Rick from on your left."

Cullen nodded, keeping his face deliberately passive.

"Edward, after your finals performance, has your mind gone at all to retirement?"

A sigh bubbled in Cullen's chest. At 36 he was on the older end of the roster, but he could still play. Couldn't he?

"That's something I haven't even considered at this point," he replied tersely, taking a cursory sip of Gatorade.

"Andy from the AP, to your right."

"Cullen, can you talk about where the team went wrong on offense tonight?"

In so many ways. Late in the fourth he'd been so tired he missed an easy pass in the paint. In the split second it took for him to grasp the ball a defender knocked it clean out of his hands. A beautiful pass down the stretch left Cullen's counterpart, James Stanley, open for an easy dunk.

Cullen took a deep breath. "We missed some easy shots, but what made it worse is that we stopped talking to each other. We're going to work on that this summer."

He wanted to curl up and sleep, not think about the grueling summer training he was about to walk into.

_If you don't want to put in the work, then get out of the gym._

Bracing himself on the table, Cullen got to his feet. "Alright, catch you guys in October."


	2. Chapter 1

Cullen liked to be there early to shoot around without his team watching, especially after a bad end to the season. So it was unsettling to hear the dribble of a basketball as he trudged in from the locker room.

"Morning, Chief," he said, smiling at his coach's youngest daughter.

Bella Swan, fiery backup shooting guard at the University of Texas, grinned as she threw up a polished jumper. "You're late, Cullen."

Shrugging off his hoodie, the basketball star threw her a mock scowl. "It's 6:30."

"You're usually in by 6 a.m. after a beat down like that," she replied, jogging for an easy layup. "Tough loss. If it makes you feel any better, I think dad played you too much against Portland."

Cullen shrugged. He didn't want to disparage his longtime coach to anyone, let alone the man's daughter.

"I had sawdust in my head the last couple of games. That's not his fault."

Bella huffed. "You were _tired._"

Annoyed with the turn of the conversation, Cullen deflected. "I guess that's why they call it athletics, Swan."

He'd known her since he was traded to the Spurs from the Suns fifteen seasons ago. She'd been a chubby four-year-old. And because she was a sharp shooter and the apple of her father's eye, she had practically grown up before Cullen's eyes.

In her black tank top and silver basketball shorts, Cullen had to admit she'd grown up well. And in the last couple of years he'd grown to appreciate more than just her agile footwork on the court. No, she'd filled out from the lanky teenager into an incredibly cute college sophomore.

_Damn it, Cullen._

"How's school?" he asked, in an effort to break the tension. "You finally decide on a major?"

Bella didn't look pleased to have the focus back on her. "I'm doing PT right now, but I don't know. I might want to go overseas."

"So? You're still going to get your degree, aren't you?"

"Dad says I haven't got a choice," she muttered, dribbling aggressively in a circle around him. The girl had impeccable ball handling.

"You'll want a degree if you're going to be a coach one day," he pointed out.

She didn't argue, but instead charged down the court before pulling up for a three, which bounced off the rim. "This is why I'm on the bench," she said glumly.

Tucking the ball under one arm, Cullen wrapped the other around Bella's shoulders. "You're on the bench because your starter is a productive senior. Your time's going to come."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."


End file.
